


bruised hearts

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: She sort of, kind of, probably hates him. He tells himself it’s for the best.





	bruised hearts

_Miles from a lover make a heart grow strong_  
_Well I was weak and the road was long_  
_Took a little time but I’m coming around  
_ _And I’m thinking ‘bout pointing my headlights south_

.

.

.

When Jody calls and says she has a friend who needs a place to crash for a few days and could use some help with a hunt, they don’t hesitate.

He really wishes Jody would have told him who this mystery hunter was _before_ they agreed to let her stay in the bunker for a few days. He knows it’s petty. But really, the awkward tension that’s settled over the three of them is almost more than he can take.

“You know what?” Sam hisses when she’s out of earshot, “You’re making this way worse than it needs to be. I don’t know if you noticed, but she’s not exactly pining.”

Dean _did_ notice.

Maybe that’s why he’s being an extra special brand of asshole this week.

Okay, it’s not like he expected her to have a broken heart. But would it kill her to act like he made an impression on her? Because she definitely made an impression on him.

It was two nights. Two of the most mind blowing nights of his life where he finally felt like he could let go and just _be_ with this woman. This woman who understood him, understood the life, and didn’t have an ounce of judgment in her eyes when she looked at him.

He really, genuinely likes her, and even though he knew she never expected anything, he can tell the way he basically fell off the face of the earth pissed her off. He was packed up and gone before the sun even came up the morning after.

Hell, he’d take the cold shoulder over this confusion. He remembers the text he got the morning after: _jesus winchester, would it have killed you to buy me a cup of coffee before you blew me off?_

The thing is - he didn’t really think he’d be this hung up on her. Yeah, she’s gorgeous and smart, and funny too - but he didn’t think he’d be wondering about her when he’s had too much to drink and even when he’s stone cold sober.

“Can you pretend to listen to what I’m saying?” Sam says again, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“Look, it’s not that serious. We’re grown-ups - we’ll help her through this hunt, and then we’ll go our separate ways.”

“Gonna be real easy to work with her when she hates your guts.” Sam says, a sarcastic smile on his face.

“Don’t worry, Sam -” She interrupts, coming back into the library, “- I don’t hate Dean more than I hate every other man. Well, not by much.” She winks in his direction, and Dean clenches his jaw.

Fine. This will all be fine.

.

.

.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle that the two of you haven’t died more than you already have,” she says heatedly from the backseat, her hand pressed over her thigh to try to stop the bleeding.

“We’re almost home, hang on,” Sam says from the front seat, ignoring her jab.

“No, really! I want to make sure I nail this point home.” She hisses from between grit teeth, “I don’t even know if we can call that a clusterfuck. Is there something worse than a clusterfuck?”

Dean slams on the brakes.

“Can you cut the shit for five goddamn minutes?” He snaps, eyes blazing as they meet hers in the rearview mirror.

“Sure, Dean. And while we’re stopped here as I’m bleeding out, any requests for when I die and haunt the Impala for the rest of my life?”

“You’re not going to die. Dean, drive.” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “Look, yes. That could have been planned better–”

“There was a _plan_?!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean mutters. They haven’t had a hunt go this badly in a long time. Well, that’s not true. They haven’t had a _basic_ hunt go this badly in a long time. Vampires? Chop chop. Easy. Home before dinner.

Except Katie volunteered to be bait, and Dean spent the entire hunt so goddamned worried he didn’t realize they were dealing with a vampire smarter than he was used to, one step ahead of them the entire time.

It’s guilt that’s gnawing at him now, the sight of her bloodied and bruised in his backseat because he didn’t see it coming making him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles are white. There’s also the fact that she’s so angry with them both he thinks they’ll be lucky if they ever see her again.

Not that she would think twice about him, he thinks bitterly. He just can’t shake it. She doesn’t seem to give two shits about him, and he can’t stop thinking about her. He’s never been in this situation before.

They get back to the bunker in a thick, uncomfortable silence, and Sam’s scooped her up and carried her inside before Dean can say anything.

He trails behind, glowering at the back of his brother’s head as he watches Katie cling to him. _Get it together, man_. In the infirmary, he hears her cracking jokes as he lingers in the doorway and wonders for the millionth time what the fuck he’s doing here.

He’s always been a man of action. Just say what you want and deal with whatever comes after. He just can’t figure out what to do here.

What should he even say?

_I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that weekend even though I know you hate me for leaving like I did, but now you’re acting like you don’t care at all, and that’s almost worse._

“You, uh, you need anything else?” He asks gruffly. He wants to smack himself.

Sam glances over and her eyes flick upwards. “I think I’ve got it.”

“A change of clothes, maybe?” She asks tentatively. “Whatever’s in my suitcase.”

Dean’s caught off guard that she isn’t threatening him with bodily harm any more. “Uh, sure. Sure. Be right back.” He stutters.

He finds the room she claimed for herself and sees her suitcase sitting open on the bed. Wanting to be quick, he grabs the first few things he sees, a pair of worn, soft sweatpants and– he freezes. That’s _his_ shirt. It’s faded with a small hole on the left shoulder. He thought he lost it or ruined it somewhere along the way, but– this whole time, it’s been with her.

He takes long, quick strides back to the infirmary.

Luckily, Sam’s made himself scarce, and Dean doesn’t think he could stop the sudden onslaught of word vomit if he tried. “Is this my shirt?”

She blinks up at him. “What?”

“This shirt. It’s mine. It was in your suitcase.”

A light blush tinges her cheeks, but she doesn’t look embarrassed. “Yeah? You want it back? You left it– I figured you didn’t care about it that much.”

Dean doesn’t know what he expected. Did he think she was clinging to it as a way to remember him? God, he’s so stupid.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, tone gruff.

“Will it matter if I say no?”

“Do you hate me? Or do you just not care at all? Because it’s driving me crazy trying to figure it out.”

She laughs, but it’s a bitter sound, nothing like the breathless laughter he coaxed out of her when she was underneath him, flushed and– _don’t even go there._ “Look, what do you want to hear? We’re not thirteen, Dean. I’m a hunter. I’m not going to write you poems and sit around thinking about you every single night.” She shakes her head. “But I don’t hate you. Did I want you to stay the night that weekend? Sure.”

Dean’s palms feel sweaty.

“You were mad at me for leaving,” he points out. “And now you act like you don’t even remember–”

“I remember,” she says quickly, meeting his eyes. “Look, I didn’t want to marry you, Dean. I just wanted to have breakfast and maybe kiss you a few more times before you took off.” She smiles. “I knew what we were going to be before it happened. I just… I don’t know.” She shrugs. “So what was I supposed to do? I wasn’t going to act like a lovesick girl about it. We have to work together. I was _hoping_ we could still be friends, too.”

“Friends.” Dean’s voice sounds hollow.

“You’re really confusing the hell out of me, here.” She says, brows furrowed.

Dean knows he has a habit of being an idiot, but he’s pretty sure this takes the cake. “I’m– you’re right. I’m sorry. Wow.” He shakes his head. “I’ve been a little bit stuck on you,” he admits, “and when I thought you hated me, I didn’t worry about it. I figured it was just a crush and it would go away. But seeing you again, and you acting like you barely remembered those nights at all… that got to me.”

He closes the gap between them, sitting down on the chair next to hers. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You and me both,” she says quietly. He looks up at her questioningly. “I didn’t want to seem clingy, so I never called. I never texted you, I never– I didn’t want to be _that girl_.”

He hands over the bundle of clothes, and smiles softly when she takes it from him, fingers brushing his. “This is very unfamiliar territory for me.”

She grins. “Not used to being the one hung up on someone?”

He rolls his eyes. “God. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s way too late for that.”

They both laugh before a silence settles over them.

“I’ll let you–”

“I’m going to–”

They both start talking at once, and Dean smiles sheepishly. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Unless you need help?”

She shakes her head. “I got it. Sam patched me up. I’m just going to be limping a bit for a few weeks.”

Dean frowns. “We have crutches–”

“Don’t worry about me. Go cook me something. I’ll meet you there.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, okay.” He gives her one last once over before leaving the room, shaking his head. What a fucking day.

.

.

.

“You know,” Dean says casually, pushing his empty plate away from him, feeling warm and relaxed after a big dinner. “You’re going to need to be off your feet for a few weeks to let that heal.”

She opens her mouth, no doubt to protest, but Dean keeps going.

“I think you should stay here. Your stuff is already here, and we can help you out. Make sure you get back on your feet okay.”

Her eyes sparkle at him. “And here is better than Jody’s, because…”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You might like it. Might want to stay longer than a few weeks.”

She stands and Dean pushes his chair from the table instinctively, making room for her as she practically saunters over and steps between his legs.

“I think you’ve got ulterior motives, Dean Winchester.”

“Me? No. Just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Slowly, she straddles him, shifting her weight so as not to hurt her injured thigh more than she already has by walking around on it. “You counting on having more weekends like the last time we were together?”

He grins. “Maybe some weekdays, too. Breakfast included,” he whispers, his lips barely brushing against hers, the electricity between them causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.

“You really are hung up on me, huh?” She teases, voice low.

“Oh, definitely.” He murmurs, face serious, leaning in even more so he can press a slow, hot kiss to the underside of her jaw. “Got me all tied up in knots.”

She sighs, and the sound is Dean’s undoing. He kisses her then, a searing kiss that he’s been dreaming about for months. He leans into her, her arms sliding around his neck, and his around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He’s careful, listening for any sign that she’s in pain or uncomfortable, but the way she kisses him back suggests otherwise.

Her hands tug at his hair as her tongue slides into his mouth, and he’s glad he’s sitting down because he swears his knees would have buckled. Everything’s heightened with her. Every sensation, every single touch… he could smack himself for letting her go the first time.

“Guys,” Sam whines, causing them both to jump, “We _eat_ in here.”

“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean says, grinning, eyes still closed. He squeezes her sides lightly and feels like the luckiest idiot on earth when he hears her laugh, pressing her face against his neck to hide from Sam.

“She definitely doesn’t hate you,” Sam adds on his way back out, laughing when Dean gives him the finger.

“Definitely not,” she agrees, and Dean hoists her into his arms, starting the trek down the hall to her bedroom.

He won’t be with her tonight, not when she needs her rest and needs to start healing, but he stays a few hours until she falls asleep, arm around her shoulder until she melts into him, sleep-warm and pliable.

He remembers that morning - waking up almost exactly like this, wanting nothing more than to stay right where he was. But he hated the idea of making promises he couldn’t keep and trying to make something work that was destined to go up in flames. Now, he just wonders who he thought he was kidding.

It only took her two nights to burrow her way into his heart, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to mess it up again.


End file.
